The Friday energy crackled in the air, even more potent than usual. School was almost out for the holidays, a siren song of freedom for Roxy and Faith. But for them, freedom wore a different face, a winged silhouette against the twilight sky. Today was the day. Today, their carefully laid plans, whispered in hushed tones and punctuated with excited giggles, would finally unfold.
The week had been a masterclass in patience. Each day, Roxy and Faith had subtly steered the conversation, dropping hints, weaving threads of concern about Roxy's well-being near the ears of Ri and Jihu. Ri, ever the perceptive one, had nodded knowingly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Jihu, though more reserved, had offered quiet support, a steady presence in their corner. They were allies in this delicate dance.
Now, Friday afternoon bled into evening. The school bell, usually a shrill herald of dismissal, today felt like a drumroll. As the last stragglers trickled out, Roxy and Faith lingered, their eyes fixed on the horizon. And then, he came.
Raven descended, a graceful shadow against the fading light. His usual, quiet observation shifted to concern when he saw Roxy.
Faith, bless his quick wit, stepped forward, his voice laced with just the right amount of feigned worry. "Mr. ! Roxy insisted on coming to school, even though she's really not well. I told her to stay home, but you know Roxy…" He trailed off, letting his words hang in the air, painting a picture of a stubborn, unwell child.
Raven's gaze sharpened, focusing on Roxy. "Roxy? What's wrong?" His voice, usually a low murmur, held a note of genuine alarm. After all, he was a father, even if the word felt like a phantom limb he couldn't quite grasp. The protective instinct, deeply buried but fiercely alive, flared instantly.
Roxy felt a lump rise in her throat. "Father," the word almost escaped, a desperate plea yearning for release. She bit it back, hard. Premature confession would unravel everything. Instead, she clutched her stomach, contorting her face in a believable grimace. "It hurts," she whispered, her voice trembling, partly from acting, partly from the overwhelming rush of emotions threatening to breach her carefully constructed dam.
Raven's eyes widened, his worry intensifying. He saw not just a student, but a child in distress. Without hesitation, he turned to Faith. "Faith, hold onto my shoulder." He then gently scooped Roxy into his arms, his touch surprisingly tender for his imposing frame. The world tilted as they rose, the ground shrinking beneath them. The wind whipped past their faces as Raven ascended, his wings beating strong and sure, carrying them through the twilight air with breath-taking speed.
In what felt like minutes, they touched down in front of Roxy's house. As Raven set her down, Roxy amplified her performance, groaning and clutching her stomach. "Oh, Guardian Angel, it hurts so much!" she moaned, sinking to her knees. "I can't walk. Please… please take me to Faith's house. Just for today."
Raven's brow furrowed deeper. He could see the distress on Roxy's face, the genuine worry etched on Faith's. Faith chimed in, his voice earnest and slightly panicked. "Yes, Mr., please! I'm just a kid, I can't carry her. And nobody's home at Roxy's… what if she gets worse? Faith's house is closer to my parents." He conveniently omitted the crucial detail that his parents were expecting them, and were in on the entire plan.
Raven's internal turmoil was a tempest. Faith's house… Jihu's house. The thought sent a jolt of ice through him. Jihu. After all these years… the guilt, the shame, the weight of his abandoned life pressed down on him. How could he face Jihu? How could he explain his absence, his silence, his… existence?
Panic clawed at him. He needed to escape. He was about to suggest taking Roxy inside her own house, leaving them there, vanishing back into the shadows, when Faith, sensing his hesitation, delivered the final, calculated blow.
"Are your parents home, Faith?" Raven asked, his voice tight, desperate for any reason to avoid the inevitable.
Faith's eyes widened innocently, a picture of childhood vulnerability. "No, they're… they're out. They'll be back later. I was going to call them once we got home." A perfectly crafted lie.
Relief, fragile but real, washed over Raven. Later. He could deal with 'later.' "Okay," he said, his voice a forced calm. "Let's go to your house then."
He lifted Roxy again, more gently this time, and with Faith trotting beside him, they walked towards Faith's house. Faith, with the speed and stealth of a seasoned operative, had already texted Jihu: ETA 5 mines. He's coming. Stay inside until we're in.
They entered the house, the familiar scent of home momentarily grounding Raven. Faith's living room was warm and inviting, sunlight dappling through the curtains, illuminating a plush sofa. Raven started to gently lower Roxy onto it when suddenly, Roxy's small hands shot out, gripping his wrists with surprising strength.
"Dad," she said, her voice no longer trembling with feigned pain, but ringing with clarity and a raw vulnerability that pierced Raven's defences. "Dad, where are you going? Don't leave me."
Raven froze, every muscle in his body locking up. The word echoed in his mind, a thunderclap in the sudden silence. Dad. How… how could she know? His carefully constructed walls, built brick by brick over years of isolation, crumbled. He stared at Roxy, bewildered, his carefully crafted world dissolving around him.
"Dad?" Roxy repeated, her grip tightening. "Are you leaving again?"
He wanted to deny it, to explain, to deflect. But no words came. His calculations, his carefully laid plans to remain hidden, to protect her from… from what exactly? Himself? They were all for naught.
As he stood there, paralyzed, wanting to pull away but unable to tear his gaze from Roxy's pleading eyes, a figure appeared in the doorway. Jihu.
Raven's breath hitched. He hadn't seen Jihu in an eternity. Years melted away, leaving behind the raw ache of loss, the bitter taste of regret. Jihu stood there, his face etched with years of worry and a profound sadness that mirrored Raven's own. Tears welled in Jihu's eyes, unshed for too long.
"Running again, Raven?" Jihu's voice cracked, thick with emotion, with years of unanswered questions. "How long are you going to keep running?"
Before Raven could even stammer a response, another figure materialized, stepping into the room from the hallway – Fang. Solid, dependable Fang, his face a mixture of disbelief and relief. Jihu and Fang, his brothers, his anchors. Raven was probably close behind, Raven realized with a jolt. The trio, inseparable since childhood, now stood before him, a living, breathing indictment of his self-imposed exile.
He had ignored their calls, ghosted their attempts to reach out, vanished from their lives like smoke. And now, here they were, their presence a potent reminder of everything he had thrown away. Shame washed over him, a suffocating tide. He bowed his head, unable to meet their gaze. What could he possibly say? What excuse could justify years of silence, of pain inflicted on those who had only ever offered him love and loyalty?
He was adrift in a sea of questions. What would he say to Jihu and Fang, his friends, his family? What would he say to Roxy, his daughter, who had known him only as a shadowy guardian, and now faced him as her father? Why were you gone, Dad? The question echoed in his mind, a silent scream.
He stood there, a statue carved from regret and fear, mute and helpless.
Then, a soft voice cut through the suffocating silence. Roxy. She had risen, her eyes fixed on him, filled not with accusation, but with understanding. "Dad," she said again, the word now imbued with warmth and acceptance. "I know why you left."
Raven's head snapped up, confusion warring with disbelief.
"You don't have to explain," Roxy continued, her voice surprisingly steady. "We don't need excuses. We just… we just want you back. I just want my father. I don't care if you're cursed, or… or anything."
A small hand, Faith's hand, slipped into Raven's, grounding him. Faith looked up at him, his eyes wide and earnest. "Mr. ," he said, his voice full of childish sincerity, "you might be cursed, but you know, you're really handsome! And I like flying with you. Honestly, we don't want to wait until Friday anymore. If this is how it is… you'll take Roxy and me to school every day, right? And pick us up too? Wouldn't that be great, Mr. ?"
A faint tremor ran through Raven, not of fear, but something akin to hope. He looked from Roxy's unwavering gaze to Faith's innocent enthusiasm, then to Jihu and Fang, their faces softening, a hesitant welcome flickering in their eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't drowning in darkness anymore. Maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of light, small and fragile, but undeniably there, beckoning him towards a future he hadn't dared to imagine.
Faith motioned for Raven to lower himself, and he obediently crouched down, the polished floor cool beneath his knees. "You know, Mr. Raven," Faith began, her voice soft, tinged with reminiscence, "when I was a child, I used to play with my father in the garden. I remember seeing Roxy watching me. She would always have this little smile, a curious look in her eyes. I used to wonder why Roxy looked at me like that, especially since Roxy didn't play with her father."
Raven's breath hitched slightly, but Faith continued, oblivious or perhaps intentionally so. "One day, my childish curiosity got the better of me, and I asked my father, 'Father, why doesn't Roxy play with her father?' And my father, he told me a story. A story about a king who was plagued by loneliness. It's my favourite story even today."
Faith paused, her gaze distant, as if reliving the tale. "There was a king," she started, her voice taking on a storytelling cadence, "who preferred solitude, even from a young age. But he had two loyal friends, who, despite his preference, stayed by his side throughout his life. He felt… irritated, sometimes, but he never voiced it."
Raven listened intently, a knot tightening in his stomach. He sensed where this was going.
"Then," Faith continued, "a princess entered his life. They didn't get along at first, not really. But slowly, she changed everything. The lonely king began to live among people, and happiness, real happiness, returned to his kingdom. But then… one day, the princess fell terribly ill."
Faith's voice dropped, tinged with melancholic undertones. "The king was alone again. He waited for her, he counted the days, but the princess didn't wake up. It was as if she had fallen into an eternal sleep."
A heavy silence descended, broken only by the soft crackling of the nearby fireplace. Raven's eyes were fixed on Faith, his expression unreadable.
"After a long, long wait," Faith resumed, her voice barely a whisper, "the princess's eternal sleep ended. But… a problem arose. She had forgotten the king. Completely forgotten him."
Faith's gaze sharpened, meeting Raven's directly for the first time since starting the story. "Imagine the king's pain. The sorrow, the years of waiting, the anger, the wounded pride… in a moment of raw emotion, the king struck the princess. Because she didn't remember him, she misunderstood his pain. She forgot their shared history, the valuable, lovely time they had spent together."
Faith's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. "The king was left alone again, utterly lost in his pain. But when he found out the princess was in danger, again, without a second thought, he stood before her, shielding her from harm. This lonely king, plagued by loneliness, became a cursed king. Feeling insignificant, consumed by guilt towards the princess, he disappeared, as if his whole life simply vanished."
Faith's voice softened again, a hint of sadness colouring her tone. "Hope almost vanished with him. But before the cursed king left, he gifted the princess a beautiful flower. Do you know what the cursed king's last wish was, Mr. Raven, before he disappeared?"
Raven remained silent, his breath shallow.
"His last wish was for the princess to take good care of that flower," Faith whispered, "and to nurture it, to help it grow."
She finally looked away, her gaze drifting towards Roxy, who sat quietly on the sofa, watching them both with wide, innocent eyes. "And do you know why my father told me this story, Mr. ?" Faith asked, her voice regaining its strength, her eyes locking onto Raven's once more. "My father said there is no difference between you and this lonely king. You two are… equal."
The weight of Faith's words settled heavily in the room. Raven was utterly speechless. The carefully constructed walls around his heart, built up over years of self-imposed exile and stoic silence, crumbled under the weight of her simple, poignant story. He could feel the dam within him breaking.
Tears, unshed for what felt like an eternity, welled up in his eyes and overflowed, tracing hot paths down his cheeks. They were tears of pain, of regret, of longing – tears accumulated over years of self-inflicted isolation, finally unleashed by the innocent wisdom of a child. He couldn't hold them back, didn't even want to anymore.
Seeing Raven's raw emotion, Jihu and Fang, who had been watching the scene unfold with bated breath, couldn't restrain themselves any longer. They rushed forward and embraced Raven, the three figures merging into a single unit of shared grief and long-denied affection. It was as if the three statues, frozen in time and distance, had suddenly thawed and fused back together.
Hugging them tightly, Raven choked out, "Sorry, brothers… it was a terrible mistake to stay away. I missed you both so much… all these years. You can't imagine… I just… I didn't have the courage." He pulled back slightly, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm not… I'm not the same powerful Vampire King anymore. I don't even have that much strength left now."
Fang tightened his grip on Raven's shoulder. "Strength?" Fang scoffed, a hint of his old playful gruffness returning. "If you don't have strength, you're still our friend. If your strength disappeared, you wouldn't be our friend? What kind of nonsense is that? If it was me or Jihu in your position, would you abandon us?"
Jihu nodded, his own eyes glistening. "We've been friends since childhood, brother. We weren't powerful then. We were still friends. Strength has nothing to do with it. Our friendship isn't conditional on power."
As the initial wave of emotion subsided, leaving a fragile lightness in its wake, Jihu gently steered the conversation. "You talk to us a lot, Raven, but I think your real understanding… it's with your daughter."
Raven's gaze shifted, slowly, reluctantly, to Roxy. He knelt before her, his heart aching with a mixture of guilt and burgeoning paternal tenderness. Before he could utter a word, Roxy spoke, her voice small but clear.
"Come back to us, Dad," she pleaded, her innocent eyes searching his. "Mom doesn't hate you, Dad. You know… Mom goes into a closed room every night. She doesn't let me in. Ri Aunty says… you used to stay in that room, before. Mom misses you, even today, Dad. I know she does. I'm telling the truth. I'm not lying."
Roxy's lower lip trembled. "I just… I want a complete family, Father. Will you give that to me, Father? I don't want anything else."
Raven's voice was thick with emotion as he finally spoke directly to his daughter, the word "daughter" feeling foreign and yet achingly right on his tongue. "I… I will give you such a family, my daughter. But… I need some time. I need to prepare myself. I can't just… go see your mother like this." He reached out and gently cupped her face, his touch feather-light. "Give me a week, Roxy. I promise… I will fix everything. I will come back."
Pulling her into a tender embrace, Raven held Roxy close, the feeling of holding his daughter, truly calling her "daughter" for the first time, resonating deep within his soul. It was a feeling more profound, more precious than any power, a feeling only a father could truly understand.
With a final, lingering hug for Jihu and Fang, Raven bid them farewell, promising to return next week. As he left, unnoticed by the others, he slipped a folded piece of paper into Jihu's hand.